


and then there were none

by honeyseong



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Angst, Asexuality, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Work In Progress, also there are like 0 reader inserts for spring awakening lmao, this is completely self-indulgent don't murder me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 12:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15995015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyseong/pseuds/honeyseong
Summary: These children do not know love.





	and then there were none

**Author's Note:**

> it's late and i don't know what to do

You had always been interested in Moritz Stiefel. None of the other girls seemed to like him all that much, save for Wendla and Ilse, but you thought he was kind of… charming. When you first moved into the neighbourhood at the ripe age of 6, apparently Moritz also wanted to get to know you better, too. So, both being the shy people that you were, Melchior had to help and introduce you to one another. That was many years ago. But since you, and Moritz were childhood friends, it felt weird to develop feelings for the shy boy.

Of course, you hadn’t fully come to terms with your emotions; heck, you had no idea what you were even feeling, but you knew your parents wouldn’t be too happy hearing you gush over a boy. You were already feeling embarrassed just thinking about the encounter. So, being the confused teenager you were, you tried to dismiss your feelings, telling yourself to forget about it and rest your head.

But that was much harder than it seemed.

Melchior, on the other hand, seemed far more knowledgeable on the subject. You were neighbours, and your parents admired his excellence at school, so they often brought you along 

Though your knowledge of relationships was very minimal, Melchior seemed to be quite knowledgeable about the subject. You always rejected and tuned out his graphic explanations that he was alarmingly willing to say out in the open, but when you had become curious, he assured you that it was normal for girls to feel attracted to boys. So, great, you understood that you liked boys. And at the same time, you knew that you didn’t like Melchior in that same way, which was good, since it was obvious that he only saw you as a friend, too. He was quite a flirt, and even if you could admit that he was lucky when it came to his gene pool, he wasn’t your type. 

Now you also knew that you liked Moritz, more than just a childhood friend, which you found weird because you were an absolute awkward mess who stressed over interactions with him. Shouldn’t attraction mean that you want to be closer to him? You had also begun to notice that Moritz always seemed very uncomfortable around you, finding reasons to look away or just straight up leave. Your bond since childhood was thinning, but you didn’t want to confront him about it. He had enough worries at school, and you didn’t want to distract him.

It had been a great amount of years since you had moved, yet you found yourself still awkward and nervous around others, especially for someone who had just turned fourteen. Compared to the other children, you were quite asocial, sticking to yourself most of the time and unable to speak when spoken to. Your parents brushed it off as nothing, saying that it was just because you were the youngest among all your friends, but you often heard them mumble about having a sick child. You found it strange, as although you did often have a slight cough, it never felt like anything serious.

Although you and the other girls didn’t go to school, you demonstrated your intellect in other things, and your parents acted proud of you for that. Maybe the child is okay, maybe she’s just shy. Maybe I didn’t birth a failure. You couldn’t remember whether they actually said that, or if the words were uttered by voices in the back of your head.

But still, your parents didn’t seem to trust you. They appreciated the fact that your friends helped you become a less anxious person, but they didn’t seem to have much faith in them either. They tried to convince you that you needed to rest, lie in bed, recover from a sickness you didn’t feel you had.

The first time that happened was when you were seven: antisocial, quiet, small. You blindly obeyed as you heard the lock of the front door click. Strangely, you couldn’t open the door from the inside; there was only a slot for a key staring smugly at you. You didn’t want to stay locked up, you weren’t some animal. So you were overjoyed when one day, you found a spare key tucked away in a slit under the stairs. Even if you weren’t allowed out, they wouldn’t be able to trap you.

But after seven years, it had been a while since you were restricted from going out. They seemed to forget all about the illness you supposedly had, and were bit looser on the rules. When you brought it up with them, your parents warned you that your condition was very much present, but just increased in severity every now and then. You knew they were lying, that you were just some failure to them. A child they couldn’t boast about to the other parents or the people at church. You liked church and didn’t want to make a fool of yourself there, so you complied when they said it would be best to just completely hide you away from the world.

Dear God, why did you make me like this? you prayed on some nights, but you weren’t really expecting an answer.

Usually, your parents would be concerned about you, checking if you were feeling okay, if you needed to lie in bed some more. You didn’t know how thermometers worked, and they always seemed to avoid talking about it whenever it appeared in conversations, so whenever they told you your temperature was high, you remained quiet, not daring to question their ability to parent.

But now, since their days at work were becoming longer and longer, you had more and more time without them. You could sneak out and come back and they wouldn’t even know.

You didn’t tell your friends anything about this, just that your parents were strict and a bit paranoid of you getting hurt. You didn’t want them concerned or involved with your home life.

\---

After one particularly long day of doing nothing, you brushed your short hair, bangs being brought out again after removing the many bobby pins pinning your chocolate-brown locks in place. Your parents wanted you to grow out your hair, but you resisted and complained. They finally complied, allowing you to keep it that style, as long as you kept your fringe out of the way. It was the one thing you actually had a say in. Having nothing to do, you changed into a casual beige dress and stared out your window.

You spotted a group of teenagers walking down the street, but struggled to see any of their faces. Suddenly, someone turned around, laughing, and you were finally able to identify one of them as Anna, meaning that your friends were just a couple of houses away. Rushing downstairs giddily, you asked your mother if it was okay to join them.

Sighing, she agreed, and you promised to return in time for dinner.

“Hey!” You called out, running towards the group. “Wait up!”

Finally, all heads turned to you. You barely ever went out with them, so the confused stares of your friends weren’t very surprising. That didn’t make the experience less embarrassing, however.

“You look so cute today, Y/n!” Martha called, clasping her hands together. “I’m glad your parents allowed you to come with us!”

Gratefully, you thanked her, flushed from the attention, while ignoring the second part of her greeting. People joined in greeting you; however, one person remained staring at the ground. 

“Y-yeah. C-cute.” A mumble.

Moritz Stiefel. 

It was a surprise the boys even joined your shenanigans, with school and all. You wondered how their parents would react to them hanging out with the opposite gender, but then again, none of them seemed troubled about family, so you pushed that thought away.

You didn’t want to call Moritz out while everyone was watching, so you swiftly moved next to him and Wendla.

“So,” you said to no one in particular. “Where are we headed?”

Wendla replied first. “We’re going to the library. Martha needs to get some books for her dad, and the rest of us just tagged along. We’re going to the park afterwards. But more importantly, Moritz needs help studying.”

You both turned to the mentioned boy as you slowly placed a tender hand on his shoulder. Seeing how he shivered under your touch, you internally panicked, convinced that he didn’t like you at all.

“Melchi’s going to help him, but Y/n, I think you’d be interested in what they learn at school!” Wendla concluded, smiling brightly while you tried to hide your face. Well, it wasn’t false: you were interested in what boys learned while you stayed cooped up at home. 

You wanted to reply, but realizing there was nothing to say, you just nodded awkwardly.

Stupid, why can’t you just talk like a normal person? You berated yourself in your head, frustrated that words couldn’t come out as easily as you had hoped.

“Y-yeah, I really need to catch up in my studies,” came Moritz’s trembling voice, and you couldn’t help but smile. Even if he was starting to hate you, at least he was still willing to talk to you.

Soon, the group stopped at the Gabor household to pick Melchior up, and Wendla returned to conversing with her other friends, leaving you and Moritz alone together at the back.

“If you’d prefer it, I could just tag along with Wendla while you’re studying. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“No. I-it’s fine.”

At this point, you were slightly confused. But your thoughts came to a halt as soon as you reached your destination: the library.

Martha was the first to enter, with Thea, Anna, and Wendla following. Melchior went his own way, probably picking out the books already. Seeing how you were probably the only one among the girls willing to stay with Moritz, you trailed after him, walking over to an unoccupied, secluded table as he took out his notebook. He soon left, stuttering out that he was going to get some textbooks. Checking the clock, you had about two and a half hours before you had to head home.

Waiting for the said boy to return, you rifled through his notebook, reading messy scribbles that you couldn’t read even if you tried. Most of the writing was on the first half of the book, but you quickly realized that there was more text at the back. 

Now, you couldn’t read at all, but you stared at the page in wonder. Each letter written in scratchy cursive.

Suddenly, Moritz slammed the book shut, visibly sweating. 

“Uhh, how much of that did you read?” At this point he was borderline having a panic attack.

“I can’t read, Moritz,” you assured.

“O-oh, yeah. Uh sorry.”

You were curious about whatever was written on the pages, but you didn’t have the confidence to bring it up, especially since his behaviour showed that whatever was on there clearly wasn’t meant to be seen. Fortunately, Melchior sat down and plopped four thick books onto the table, so you just moved on and listened to the lesson.

Moritz was clearly trying to focus and absorb the information Melchior was teaching him, but just your presence turned him into jelly. Sometimes, you would stare intently at the book, trying to decipher the text, other times you would just smile at him and he felt like fainting. He crossed his legs, covering the growing tent in his pants. He looked absolutely terrified.

After tedious work, he finally started to understand the subject, answering multiple questions correctly and being able to recall what was told to him. You hadn’t realized that everyone else had left already, since it was already six o'clock.

You started to pack up, returning books to their shelves. You were thinking about walking with Moritz and Melchior back home, but they were probably already exiting the library. And why would Moritz want to walk with you?

You really did like him. He was cute, hard-working, kind: the type of person you would love to spend the rest of your life with. But he was confusing, and communication wasn’t that strong between the two of you. Melchior seemed to know exactly what the both of you were thinking, though. And even without you asking, he helped ease the tension between you and Moritz. Sometimes, you forgot how grateful you were to have him as a friend.

“Hey, Y/n,” the more outgoing boy spoke. “Were you thinking of walking back by yourself?”

You were shocked when you heard the voice behind you. They waited this whole time?

“Uh, yeah. I thought you both already left.”

“Well, we can accompany you back home. We all live relatively close to each other anyway.”

Thanking the two of them, you walked side by side down the dark streets. Melchior reached his house first, bidding you both farewell, and you continued down the street. The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Instead, you felt warm inside, happy to have Moritz beside you. Sirens were blaring in your head, since you were alone with your crush, walking together. You wanted to say something, tell him that he wasn’t as worthless as he thought he was; that he had people to support him. School seemed like the thing that would end up killing him, but since you never had any real education, you wouldn’t know what that felt like.

“I wish I could go to school. I wish I knew how to read.”

“I c-could teach you.”

Internally, you were a mess. Moritz, the shy boy, could make you feel so darn giddy inside.

“I’d… I’d really appreciate that. Thank you.”

Finally, you reached your house. 

“I really enjoyed today, I hope we can go out again soon.”

Go out? Like a date? Moritz thought, sweating profusely and twitching. You, on the other hand, could only feel hopeless. You didn’t think you’d even be allowed to leave your house again for another month.

“M-me too. Goodnight, Y/n.”

When you arrived home, your father was surprisingly waiting by the door.

“You’ve been out with friends again, haven’t you?”

“Yes, father. Mother allowed me.”

“You’ve been out with boys.”

“...Y-yes.”

Suddenly, there was a stinging feeling on your cheek, the ring on his hand leaving a rough scratch that was now drawing blood. You sucked in a pained breath.

“It was a stretch to even allow you to interact with Melchior Gabor. But now you’ve gone and gotten yourself involved with the Stiefel kid, too?”

“S-sorry father.” You held back the tears, trying to keep your voice stable.

“You should be.”

All you wanted was to escape. Escape from your locked up home. Escape from your family. Escape from society, even. Moritz seemed like the perfect solution. So when you went to bed thinking about what it would feel like to hold his hand, your tears stopped, and you fell asleep with a peaceful expression on your face.

\---

When you got out of bed the next morning, you lay there for a while got out of bed slightly later than before and changed into a plain dress, careful not to accidentally brush your hand over the painful wound on your cheek. There was no clamour downstairs; your parents were already at work. Perfect. Brushing your hair, you stared into the mirror and sighed. Mornings just weren’t your thing. Breakfast was a single piece of toast, which you munched down quickly. After a few other actions to finish your morning routine, you fished the key out of your bedside table and unlocked the door. After hearing the relieving ‘click’, you cautiously stepped out, hands fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

You almost shrieked when you found Moritz awkwardly standing on the porch.

“H-hi Y/n.”

“Hello Moritz.”

“S-so, uh, about teaching you to read, I thought that maybe we could start today?”

“Oh. I don’t know when my parents are coming back, though…” your voice wavered.

“W-what do you mean?”

“They don’t want me to be around boys.”

“Uh, then, they don’t have to know. It could be a secret between us.” He looked down and smiled.

You were completely flushed, but you managed to reply.

“Okay.”

Creeping back into the house, Moritz followed. You ushered him to the table in the living room and brought out two pencils and sheets of lined paper. 

Learning to read was harder than expected. First, there was the alphabet and its letters. There were only so many, yet remembering each one and their sound was difficult to memorise. You didn’t even want to think about how complicated whole words would be, combining the letters and applying rules to make them sound correct.

Surprisingly, Moritz was a good teacher. You impressed even yourself when you found yourself successfully comprehending the information taught. Of course, you couldn’t cover everything in one lesson, but you made significant progress. Maybe it was because your crush was the one helping you. He was so patient, never getting frustrated at your mistakes or failures. You could have sworn your legs touched at least four times throughout the hour, but you decided that for both of your sakes, you would keep quiet about it.

To end the lesson, Moritz taught you how to write your own name. At first, he wrote it out for you, showing you the order of each stroke. You traced over the dotted lines he had laid out for you, getting the right shape of each character. Then, you practiced writing it on your own. You liked the way your name looked on the paper. You liked how when you wrote it yourself, it looked so different from Moritz’s yet still familiar. You liked the way Moritz wrote your name in his own handwriting.

After an hour, it was finally time for Moritz to leave. Your parents were fortunately still out, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be alone.

You bid the boy farewell, then he was gone.

\---

The next time you saw your friends was two days later, since your parents were finally out of the house again, schedule filled to the brim with meetings. They pampered you when they were still there, though, giving you medicine you were sure you didn’t need, and treating you like a child. They asked if you had slept well while they were gone, and if everything was okay. You didn’t get a chance to answer, really, since they wouldn’t listen in the first place.

When you knew you would be bored doing nothing but chores— and possibly going to church all by yourself for once— you went to the park, wanting to feel the fresh breeze again.

Your friends were there, too. They asked you if you were doing well at home, and if you were tired. You assured them that you were fine, and that you were just thinking about something.

“Ooh!” Thea teased. “Is it about a boy?”

Martha joined in. “I bet it’s Moritz! You would totally fall for that sad sack!”

Your tongue was tied, all you could do was cover your face with your hands.

“We’re just joking with you,” Anna assured. “But why Moritz?”

“H-he’s teaching me how to read.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to marry him?”

“I-I don’t like him!” you practically screamed, as Martha pinched your cheeks.

“Really? You’ve never thought about being in bed with him?”

“Like… sleeping beside him?” you asked, confused and naive.

“Like touching each other and stuff!”

“What? No!”

“Well, what kind of person would want to be with Moritz, anyway?” 

“Okay, okay.” Wendla settled everyone down. “So then, who do you like?”

“Umm, no one? And I just— I guess I’m not really attracted in that way to anyone.”

“Not even Melchior?”

“Oh, shush Thea!”

“W-well, no. If it’s weird, then just don’t tell anyone!”

They all nodded their heads and mockingly traced a cross over their hearts.

\---

Later that day, you visited Melchior, since you were a bit fatigued, and his house was the closest to yours. Your parents would still be working at this time, so it was safe to go.

As he was very studious, your parents deemed him to be a good role model for you, and allowed to you be friends. But nowadays, they were becoming more cautious.

How strange, you thought, that I can’t even choose who I can be friends with. 

When you finally reached the house, you rang the doorbell and were greeted by the warm face of Frau Gabor.

“Oh hello, Y/n, if you’re here to see Melchior, he’s just in his room. Shall I prepare a snack?”

You greeted her and shook your head, and she led you to where Melchior sat.

“Your parents let you out today?”

“What?”

“I know that your parents are keeping you locked up in the house. Explains why you’re always indoors, and why you’re always jumpy when it comes to talking about families.”

You stared at him in shock.

“W-well, I actually let myself out today.”

“What time do you have to sneak back?”

“Eight-thirty at the latest.”

“Well, while you’re here, we should talk. It’s been a while since we last hung out, just Ilse, Wendla, Moritz, you, and I.”

“Our childhood memories seem so long ago.”

“They really do. One day you’re a kid playing in the fields, the next day, you’re stuck in this society where adults make all the decisions.”

“Sometimes I miss seeing Ilse everyday. I hope she’s faring well.”

“As do I.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“You know,” Melchior started, leaning forward in his chair suspiciously. “We’re at the age where we start to get curious about how babies are born.”

“Really?”

“Well, I’ll just be frank with you. It’s sex.”

“It’s what?”

“The intimate relationship between a man and a woman.”

“O-oh.”

“I know you, Y/n. You haven’t been disturbed by any impure dreams or desires.” He spoke so smugly, confusing you.

“No.”

“I don’t know if I would consider you to be a lucky person for that, but I think you can be the judge.”

He pulled out a notebook, opened to a specific page. Upon closer inspection, you realized that it was Moritz’s notebook, flipped back onto the page you stared at yesterday at the library.

“Do you want me to read this out for you?”

“Not really, but I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Here, listen to this: Another horrific fantasm came to me last night, again about Y/n...”

As Melchior continued, the words left images in your mind that made you blush from the embarrassment. It was clearly a private essay that he didn’t want anyone to see, but the thought of looking at something so vile in secrecy was definitely something exciting. It made you even more interested in Moritz, and your body was heating up, but something about imagining the scenario actually happening made you feel filthy. It seemed much better to imagine it happening just in theory.

But Moritz couldn’t control his dreams, so you didn’t blame him.

“I didn’t know people could feel these ways,” you said, finally looking up from the book. “I wish I knew what it felt like.”

Melchior laughed. “What a coincidence. Moritz would love to end these so called ‘nightmares’.”

As if on cue, Moritz Stiefel came barging through the door.

“Melchi, have you seen my notebook? I’ve looked everywhere, but—”

He turned to see you, sitting beside Melchior, with your hand resting right on top of his notebook. He had never wanted to disappear so desperately in his life. 

“Moritz, come sit with us.” Melchior said innocently.

“I— uh— umm—” the panicked boy couldn’t form any words on his tongue, and instead shuffled over to the table.

“Actually, you know what? I think it’d be better if I leave you two alone.” With a wink, Melchior left.

As soon as the door closed, Moritz grabbed your collar and collided his lips against yours messily. You had no clue as to what he was doing, and you dared not move. Closed his eyes and leaning further forward, he moaned in bliss. Realizing what he had done, he immediately pulled away, all his ticks and twitches coming back tenfold.

You had never been kissed before. Your heart raced and you sat in your seat, eyes wide. But you didn’t feel anything. You couldn’t feel anything.

“I-I’m so so sorry,” came the voice of Moritz as he stood up sprinted out of the room, the chair screeching as he pulled it back. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he had to go anywhere but this place. He had gotten what he wanted, didn’t he? So why did it feel all wrong?

After moments of silence and shock, you left without saying goodbye to Melchior as you walked back home, the feeling of the kiss still lingering on your lips like a burning sensation.

When you arrived home, no one came to greet you, so you slinked to the empty dining table, not bothering to switch on any lights. A single plate was set, a simple meal enough to keep you filled for the night. But you didn’t want to eat. After shoving the food down your throat, the rest of the night passed by quickly, and soon it was pitch black outside. Sluggishly, you changed into your silky grey nightgown and went into your room blindly, dragging your feet across the floor. 

At that moment, lying on your bed in the dead of night, you never felt more alone. While others were exploring their sexuality alone, sailing their metaphorical ships, you hadn’t even boarded the boat. You were left isolated on the shore, and no one would come back to rescue the pathetic castaway who was afraid of the ocean.

People could confide in their friends to discuss about all the things they were feeling; crying together, maybe comforting one another, just overall being together and enjoying each other’s presence. You, however, couldn’t vent about your lack of lust. There was no one who you could talk to, no one who would understand or care. While others could lament about their loneliness, you were left mute and deaf: completely silent and unnoticed.

So you lay completely still, feeling the cold seep through the thin blanket, and you cried. You would rather have been blinded by the light than lost, oh so lost, in the engulfing darkness.

Because you knew that you loved Moritz Stiefel, but your love wouldn’t be enough.

\---

The following morning, you couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed. Only when you realized it was still dark did you roll out of the mattress and check the clock sitting on the wall. 5:34am. Everything was quiet; you could only faintly make out the delicate chirps of birds and the ticking of the second-hand. Looking outside the window, the sun wasn’t even up yet. You lay on your bed, but your eyes remained wide open, unwilling to fall asleep once more. After a few more minutes of failing to go back to sleep, you trudged your way over to the closet, where you found a new outfit hanging. Your father probably bought it for you to wear today.

Taking out the pieces hung neatly on two new hangers, you admired the cute and simple floral design. You put on the loose sweater and the matching skirt, feeling the sleeves reach slightly below your palms. Feeling cold around the legs, you slid on a pair of black stockings. The whole outfit was perfect for the weather, even the cold grey color scheme somehow fit the atmosphere.

Going downstairs for breakfast, you saw the two empty chairs again. Both of your parents had left you alone yet again, working day and night. They had no more time to even remember to lock the door behind them. You were starting to get used to it, and you felt guilty about how much you loved the freedom.

After finishing the daily chores and spending some time trying to read and write, you decided to go out for a walk. You didn’t want to think about whether your parents would allow it or not. It was drizzling a bit outside, but it wouldn’t inconvenience you. Your stomach grumbled and twisted, but you decided not to eat, and instead walked outside groggily. No one was waiting for you. Not Moritz, not Melchior: you were alone again. You would always be alone.

Wendla seemed to notice your change in demeanor at the park when you arrived, and unlike what you assumed, she didn’t mention anything about it. She must have signalled the rest of your friends not to bring it up, too, as the teasing died down from yesterday— save for the playful jokes made that everyone would be amused by. Sometimes you forgot how lucky you were to even have friends at all. 

The day at the park was filled with gossip and childish games, and even if you remained quieter than usual (Wendla told you it reminded her of when you were children), you still managed to enjoy it. Your skirt somehow didn’t get soiled, compared to Thea, who had mud splattered around the hem of her dress. 

When it was beginning to get late, you had started to walk back home, when Martha tapped your shoulder. She invited you to go out for ice cream, and since you had nothing better to do, you accepted her offer, a small smile on your face.

“Thanks for everything, Martha.”

“Well, that’s just what friends are for. Cliche, I know.” You both laughed at that.

\---

The ice-cream parlor was already packed with your friends— both boys and girls, mind you— when you arrived, and you desperately scanned the group for sad, soulful Moritz. You wiped your clammy hands on your dress, anticipating the moment you would spot him in the crowd. You wondered about how he was feeling: if he was dreading the moment he would see you, if he was having a panic attack yet. Knowing him, he probably was. Gosh, you shouldn’t have come here.

You walked around, wondering why you could find everyone you knew except for him, then suddenly, you collided against a wall that wasn’t there before and stumbled to the floor. The mystery person (who was, in fact, not a wall) held out a hand to pull you back up.

“Are you okay? I should have watched where I was g—”

Your eyes locked, staring— no, gazing at each other for what felt like minutes.

“Hi, Moritz,” you said nervously, taking his hand. Snapping out of the daze, he pulled you back onto your feet and scratched the back of his neck.

“Listen, I’m really, really sorry about yesterday.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“What?”

You skipped towards him, and with a random surge of confidence, grabbed his hand. He tried to pull away, but gave up when you weren’t showing any signs of letting go. You merely smiled at him, and the next thing you knew, you were holding hands with Moritz Stiefel. You stood there together in the dark little corner of the parlor, fingers interlocked. It was cold inside, and the night was crawling in, but you felt so warm inside, you couldn’t stop smiling.

You didn’t look at each other, instead, you faced towards the window, staring wistfully outside. You were both there, present at the moment, yet your minds were in distant places. Only the comfort from your joined, clammy hands kept you from completely dissociating. No one spoke. You both were thinking about what to possibly say to each other. Years ago, you were childhood friends, but now, what were you? You gripped his hand tighter, as if it was your only anchor to this world. The world that was getting harder to live in. The world where you lacked the power of adulthood, yet had no more youth to boast about. You reminisced upon the times where you were young. You barely spoke, for the world was already too loud. But now, in a sleepy room only illuminated by flickering white lights, the silence was deafening.

The glowing moon hung overhead, barely a sliver. The stars twinkled around the sky, blinking slowly and solemnly, as if even they were fatigued. You turned to Moritz. You never considered yourself to be as bright as the sunshine, and he definitely didn’t remind you of the sun either, so instead you decided that you would be the stars to his moon. In the day, you were both hidden: stuck at home, stuck at school; but in the night, that was when you both shined the brightest.

To your left, you caught Moritz staring so tenderly at you. He was almost a head taller than you, making you feel small, yet safe and protected. His eyes were warm, staring at your small face perfectly framed with your short haircut. His eyes trailed down, admiring the cute outfit you wore (the oversized sweater made him want to wrap you up in a thick blanket). With your young figure, you wouldn’t be considered provocative in any way, but there was something that attracted Moritz to you like a moth to a flame.

You never knew how much you would need each other, and you still had no clue as to what the future could possibly hold. All that mattered was the present: your hand in his, your eyes locked, and his soft lips touching yours.

It had been so long since you met, but these feelings would last forever.

“Y-you kissed me,” you stuttered, eyes wide and fingers touching the spot where he placed his lips.

“I-I’m so sorry, I s-should’ve asked first.” Moritz looked away, seemingly ashamed.

“No, it’s… good. I think I’m okay with it.”

The boy looked shocked, but gripped your hand tighter and smiled.

Just confess already, a voice from the back of your head whispered. But there was no need to say anything. You both knew how the other felt, and even if you were in love, nothing could happen. You’d be forced to stay friends, stay foreign to these feelings as they began to rot inside you. There would be no future to this connection. So you savoured the moment before it became no more than a distant memory.

You let go of his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> drinking game: drink for every plot hole/detail that makes no sense whatsoever
> 
> also it ends in angst because i'm not done with this and if i cut it off anywhere else it would be really weird


End file.
